


if we're gonna do this

by doofusface



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Best Friends, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Identity Reveal, Mutual Pining, Secret Identity, Talking, are we gonna talk about those set pics???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-21
Updated: 2018-09-21
Packaged: 2019-07-15 01:37:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16052762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doofusface/pseuds/doofusface
Summary: Honestly, Peter thought walking on Charles Bridge—with MJ—at night—alone—was going to be romantic.Not, y'know,this.





	if we're gonna do this

**Author's Note:**

> **title from More Than Friends by Jason Mraz; def rec to listen to it while/before you read this**
> 
> HEY SPOILERS AHEAD IF THE SET PICS ACTUALLY SHOW UP IN THE FAR FROM HOME FILM
> 
> but only for like
> 
> the setting
> 
> idk what actually happens it's a big ol tossup, aint it?

“This bridge, Pete? It’s been repaired so many times,” MJ says quietly, hands still tightly on her bag’s straps.

It’s sort of poetic, isn’t it?

Sort of crazy, to be here—on a piece of history, decorated by art he knows she probably wants to draw.

Here, on something that’s been broken and fixed so many times before.

Like…

Well.

Like him.

“Should we head back?” he asks when they’re in the middle, when she stops to look out at the water, black but glinting.

“You can, if you want to.”

“Buddy system, MJ.”

“It’s not the first rule you’ve ever broken,” she says cryptically, hands pulling away from the stone.

Peter frowns, walking towards her.

Towards the middle.

“What are you talking about?”

“You and Ned get on me for not being super open, but we both know I’m not the one hiding half my life,” she says matter-of-factly, finding him in her peripheral.

 _Curse_ , under his breath. “MJ—”

“You know what really sucks, Peter?” she says, inhaling sharply. Straightening her back. Staring, far and away, off to the streets and yellow lights.

He gulps.

Can’t really do much else.

MJ’s jaw clenches—a minuscule movement, almost a trick of the eye. “I thought I could take it, y’know? I—I thought I’d be okay with the lying. ‘Cause I _get_ it.” Pause, and another strained inhale. “I get _you._ ”

“Yeah,” Peter says breathlessly, “yeah, you do.”

She turns, and it’s not…

It’s not the anger he’d expected.

It’s not fire and yelling and explosive rage.

It’s…

She looks…

Just. Exhausted.

 _End of the web_ , Ned would say, if he were here.

Except he’s not.

He’s probably sitting with Betty at the little terrace at the back of the hotel.

Likely with all of their other friends, just hanging out.

Enjoying their last high school trip.

You know, like Peter and MJ _should_ be doing, if he, like, _didn’t_ have to go fight some weirdo supervillain with a fishbowl for a mask.

And if he _didn’t_ stand her up at the fair.

For _hours_.

Like he’s done before.

On not-dates, sure, but Ned wasn’t in on those things either, so it was _close_.

It was them taking baby steps. To this.

To whatever the heck _this_ was.

“What the hell, Peter?” MJ asks him tiredly, arms to her sides, neck leaning his way. “Just—really? I know you just want to keep me safe, but— _ugh_ —you just…” _Sigh._ “…You know you’re my best friend, right?”

“Of course,” he says, copying her posture. Copying her frown. “Of _course_ I know that, MJ, I just—”

“Okay, and Ned’s _our_ best friend, right?”

“Righ—”

“So why does he know?”

Peter swallows, throat dry.

MJ’s jaw clenches again, a little longer. A little more obvious. “What’s so different that _he_ gets to know you’re Spider-Man while _I_ get to sit, and wait, and pretend that I’m not _freaking out_ whenever you go fight someone and come back limping?”

Stare.

That’s all he can do.

 _Stare_ , and drop his jaw.

“Because you’re just supposed to be in the bathroom,” MJ continues, eyes and voice both soft and fragile. “Or getting more flashcards. Or answering a call.” She swallows, turning away. “Just doing something normal. Something safe.”

“I’m sorry,” Peter says finally, moving to her side. “I’m really sorry, MJ.”

He doesn’t touch her.

Just stands there, hands hovering.

Waiting.

“I’m tired,” she says, yawning and rubbing her forehead. “We can head back.”

She turns, but he catches her arm.

Gentle.

Always, _always_ gentle.

“I didn’t tell Ned,” he whispers. “He was in my room when I snuck in.”

“Three years, though,” she whispers back. “Three _years_ , Peter.”

“He made me see you.”

MJ turns, furrowed brows digging creases deeper than before.

“Mysterio,” Peter continues, eyes shutting and head bowed. “He made me see you.”

“Who—”

“The fishbowl guy on Twitter.”

“Oh.”

Peter looks up. His eyes find hers. “I thought you were in trouble,” he rasps.

 _Curse_. “Peter—”

“It’s not your fault,” he says, bowing his head again. Shakes it. Swallows, or tries to. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault either.”

“It kind of is.”

“Let me help you,” she says, placing her hand on top of the one he’d put on her arm.

Furrowed brows answer her. “What if he knows? You could be in tr—”

“Cut the bull. Let me.”

“If anyone _finds out—_ ”

“Partners,” MJ cuts in, moving closer. “We’re partners, right? You and me.” _Squint._ “…And Ned, when he’s not with Betty.”

Peter laughs involuntarily. “Yeah.”

“Stop being a dumbass, Pete. We’re a team. I don’t care if someone finds out—we’re a set, and that’s it.”

“I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Well, tough—”

“ _No_ ,” he says desperately, holding her with both hands now. “I’m—you _don’t_ —MJ, _you_?” A _breath_ , heavy and strained. “I can’t get you hurt. Not you. I don’t—” A shake of his head, a crease between his brows. “I _won’t_ know what to do. Not if it’s you.”

She steps closer, inches away. Steps into the space he’s been keeping her out of, the distance he’s been trying to keep.

She stares him down, but her voice shakes. “You think it’s not the _same_ for me? If it’s you?” _Scoff_. “Screw you, Peter. If you’re doing this, _I’m_ doing this. Or _we_ are cancelled.”

“Really wanted to avoid that.”

“Deal?”

He sighs heavily, looking around and above for an answer.

“…Peter?”

“…Deal,” he says begrudgingly, scratching the back of his neck. “ _Ugh_. You’re stubborn, you know that?”

“Heard you liked that about me,” MJ says, stepping away and ahead.

“Hotel’s the other way,” Peter says, raising a brow, thumb pointing behind him.

She shrugs. “Already here. Might as well cross it.”

“Want me to carry your bag?”

“It’s mostly empty. I ate the snacks while waiting for you.”

He catches up. “Your dress is nice, by the way.”

 _Cough_. “Thanks.”

“And your hair. It’s nice. It’s always nice, but it—it’s extra, y’know, nice.”

MJ purses her lips, nodding silently. 

Peter taps his fists on his legs. “Maybe we can go tomorrow? Before we leave?”

“Fair ended tonight.”

“Oh. Um.”

“But,” she says as they reach the end of the bridge, “you can sit beside me on the train.”

He perks up, straightening. “Yeah?”

Her cheeks puff up, but: “Yeah.”

Peter smiles, lopsided and true. “Okay. I’ll take it.”

MJ smiles back.

They cross the bridge back.

Together.

**Author's Note:**

> [deep breath] _AT THE RISK OF SOUNDIN' FOOLISH  
>  I DON'T WANNA FOOL AROUND NO MORE  
> IF WE'RE GONNA DO THIS, THEN LET'S DO THIS  
> YOU CAN FIX MY BROKEN HEART IF IT'S ALL YOUUURS_
> 
> this song breaks me x50
> 
> catch me here reading up on the extensive repairs the charles bridge has gone through over the centuries and adding that to the already potent bridge metaphor
> 
> ILU GOD BLESS
> 
> wanna yell at me? leave a comment or message me on tumblr (@ doofwrites)!


End file.
